


Angel of Mine

by mortenavida



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Wings, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Romantic Friendship, Snow, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wing Grooming, Wingfic, Wings, first snow, friendship to more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortenavida/pseuds/mortenavida
Summary: Crowley walks in on Aziraphale after the first snowfall of the season. He doesn't expect to see his angel's wings spread out, calling to Crowley totouchthem.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 82
Collections: Let's Create Secret Santa 2019





	Angel of Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celtic7irish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celtic7irish/gifts).



> When I got the list of prompts, this was not the one I expected to write! I watched Good Omens once and thought that was it, that was all I was going to do with it. But then this! And the request was wing fic with non-sexual intimacy and I fell in love. So I dove in headfirst and absolutely had a blast writing this! I hope you enjoy it, celtic7irish!
> 
> This was going to rate it "G" but then there was swearing so I did "T" just in case? But honestly, it's a lot of sweet fluff.

The first snowfall of winter was something everyone came out to see. Children ran with smiles on their rosy faces, throwing snowballs and genuinely enjoying the frozen atmosphere. Couples walked close together, the white puffs of air in front of them hard to distinguish between them. The few houses that already had holiday lights hanging let them twinkle, giving the snow an ethereal look. It was a peaceful scene. Heavenly, one might say.

Crowley absolutely despised it.

The snow dripped into the previously unknown crevices of his boots, wetting his socks uncomfortably. Three children almost tripped him as they screeched past with a barking dog on their heels. A car had even, just that morning, almost hit him because the driver had no idea how to control his own vehicle on the slick roads.

He was glad when the bookstore came into view. As another car slid right over where Crowley usually parked, he was pleased with his decision to not put his car in the perilous position of his normal spot. The garage down the block worked fine to keep his car not only safe from damage, but free of any further falling snow. It was a bitch to make sure his windows were clear otherwise.

The inside of his friend’s bookstore, the mix of warmth and musty paper, was as close to “heaven” Crowley wanted to get. He let himself breathe in the now-familiar scent of tea and leather tinted with  _ just _ a bit of angel. Aziraphale was the only angel that he could stand to be around, so it helped that his scent sent shivers down Crowley’s back.

Without asking permission, Crowley flipped the sign to “closed” and locked the door. The last thing he wanted was some mortal to come in when he had  _ other _ plans for his angel. Plans he knew Aziraphale would pretend to deny desire for, but the blush on his cheeks would always give him away. Crowley had been working on him for years now and the most Aziraphale went for was hand-holding.

Crowley wanted at least a kiss this night.

Aziraphale wasn’t in the main area of the shop, nor was he in the office downstairs from what Crowley could see. The demon fingered an open book on his angel’s desk before he flipped the statue of David next to it, opening the hidden door to Aziraphale’s private rooms. He had been shown that little secret when the shop was rebuilt.

Crowley expected surprise, maybe even a little bit of annoyance at his unplanned entrance, but he didn’t expect  _ this _ . Aziraphale stood with his naked back to the door, his  _ full _ wings expanded out around him. The white plumage took up nearly the entire room and they were just as pure as the freshly-fallen snow outside. One wing twitched, as if reaching toward Crowley.

The sudden urge to  _ touch _ pulsed through Crowley. He barely stopped himself from reaching out, from running his fingers across what he hoped would be soft feathers. Sure, they had seen each other’s smaller wings, the wings that were proper to show around their own kind, but not  _ this _ . Aziraphale’s wide eyes didn’t leave Crowley’s stunned ones as they both realized what had happened. The tips fluttered as a blush stole across his angel’s face.

“It... Grooming season,” Aziraphale said, voice barely passing through the room. “The first snow sometimes triggers it early.”

“I locked the door,” Crowley said, feeling lame. Surely there was something better he could have said. “Sign says closed.” Not that.

Aziraphale relaxed slightly. “Thank you. It must have slipped my mind. Sometimes it’s hard to ignore the itch, as I’m sure you--”

“You’re stunning,” Crowley blurted out before feeling his cheek heat up. He shifted, pushing his sunglasses further up his nose to try and hide.

The smile that came across his angel would be burned forever in Crowley’s memory. Aziraphale’s wings fluttered again before he turned his head and, very tentatively, asked, “Do you want to help me?”

He should say no and turn away. He should remind Aziraphale that they weren’t even supposed to see another like this, let alone touch. He should stop staring. He should stop imagining himself wrapped up in those pure feathers.

Crowley knew what he  _ should _ do, but it wasn’t what he  _ wanted _ to do. Aziraphale gave him a knowing smile before taking a seat and offering the full expanse of his wings to him, and that was an offer Crowley couldn’t refuse.

Moving slow, as if Aziraphale was about to bolt instead of himself, Crowley stepped closer until he could run his fingertips down the bare skin in front of him. Aziraphale shivered just slightly, his eyes closing as the smile stayed on his face. Holding back an embarrassing noise that threatened to escape, Crowley leaned forward and let himself breathe in his angel’s scent.

He almost regretted being from Hell if this was what Heaven smelled like.

“This isn’t what I came here for,” Crowley said, voice low, as he started to let his fingers trail through the plumage. “I intended for a simple kiss.”

A soft chuckle escaped from Aziraphale’s throat. “I suppose that could be arranged after this.”

“The things you do to me, angel...”

Aziraphale just hummed, letting the conversation fade out so Crowley could focus on his task. Grooming another’s wings was a private affair between lovers. Sometimes friends helped another out, but never in quite an intimate setting. Crowley let his fingers shift through the plumage gently, straightening any twists and gently plucking any feathers that needed it. He knew Aziraphale used his wings for quills -- Crowley had stolen one decades ago -- so he made sure to keep any feathers he removed to the side. 

He wasn’t sure how long they were there in the silence with only ruffled feathers and the crackle of a nearby fireplace filling the room. But too soon, Crowley pulled out the last feather and stood back to admire his work. His angel had a pleased smile, shoulders relaxed in the soft light the fire gave. While Crowley still wanted to kiss him, he had the sudden urge to just  _ hold _ him instead. To wrap his arms around Aziraphale’s body and reassure himself that they were both still here, still together.

And really, what was going to stop him?

Crowley eased around a wing so he could face Aziraphale, eyes glancing over his angel’s physique. Not the thinnest man, but he was perfect. Crowley stepped closer and slid his hands up Aziraphale’s arms and across his shoulders before pulling him into a tight embrace. His angel didn’t even tense, he simply smiled against Crowley’s neck and held back. His wings gave a happy flutter before curling around them both, protecting them from the outside world.

Crowley relaxed into the hold, happy to stay there forever. “My angel,” he murmured, turning to press his lips to the crown of golden hair.

In his arms, Aziraphale let out a soft sigh, arms tightening. “My demon.”

Perhaps, Crowley realized, the fresh snowfall wasn’t so bad after all.


End file.
